


Chipotle Kisses

by lechatnoir



Series: Homeward Bound and the Ragtime Blues [2]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: F/F, Mentions of past abusive relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lechatnoir/pseuds/lechatnoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU!verse - Where Mira is a nurse at the local hospital, Agron gets in a accident, and Saxa is a part time artist/motorcyclist. In which there are meetings and rain and chipotle kisses that smell of paint and tea and something completely different.  (Something like home, except she doesn't know what home is)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gingersnaps

i.  
The first time they had met, she was clad in leather and black jeans, skin tight and ripped in all the places that they shouldn’t be, held together by safety pins and whatever else was closest to her at the time, and the smell of cigarette smoke enveloped her. On the other hand, Mira was clad in greens and blues, eyes fiery and tired after staying up for twelve hour shifts, three days in a row. 

They had met at a café in the hospital – Mira was getting coffee to try to stay up for the rest of her shift, Saxa was getting coffee so that her hands would have something to do instead of choking Agron to death because he was barely hanging on as it is – the stupid fuck had gotten into a motorcycle accident, of course she was going to fucking worry – and that would have been counterproductive to the doctors who were currently trying to save her cousin’s life.

They weren’t expecting to bump into each other, or that their coffees would spill and Saxa would get her hand burnt. 

Which then lead to a string of curses in German and English, and she needed a cigarette.

Mira on the other hand, was firm and calm, and her hand was warm when she took the other woman’s – a stranger, but she was a doctor so she couldn’t just leave the woman alone, and it was her fault anyway, for not looking where she was going. 

Saxa hated to be coddled and treated as if she was a fragile little girl – she wasn’t, she was fucking 24 years old, she knew what the fuck she was doing for fuck’s sake – but Mira didn’t do that sort of thing and Saxa let her lead her out of the café lounge and up to her office, where she kept a spare icepack and some bandages, just in case. 

Needless to say, Saxa was a fool when it came to love.

 

ii.

The second time they had bumped into each other, Mira was a bundle of nerves and short fuses; Saxa was wind swept and drunk. 

They had exchanged words, even had a bit of wine together – Saxa says that Mira was making her nervous and really, no one liked to end the night with a bitter taste in their mouth – and somehow they had ended up a tangled mess in Saxa’s little studio, on a old futon bed that creaked under their weight.

It became a common thing between them – they’d somehow meet at the most unexpected of places, get drunk, and manage to get up to Saxa’s studio, wandering hands and lips kissing even though they were practically strangers.

It was the third time that it happened that week, and Mira thinks that maybe she’ll give this woman the time of day, all windswept and smelling of cigarette ash.

iii.

The third time they met, it was raining – Mira had just finished her shift at the hospital and was heading home, hair wet and sticking to her face, like little hands that would stretch her skin. She feels the blood that is crusting underneath her fingernails – heart surgery – and she sighs as she pulls her threadbare coat around her, the wind unforgiving and cold. 

She didn’t expect to hear the rumble of a motorcycle nearby, nor the familiar head of blonde curls and the distinct click of boots that were too worn out and paint stained to stay together – yet they somehow did. 

“Hey! Mira!”

Speak of the fucking devil.

“C’mon, you’ll catch a fucking cold out in this weather” 

She could only nod and lean her head against Saxa’s leather jacket, wrap her arms around her waist and let the rumble of the motorcycle lull her to sleep.

iv.

She vaguely remembers meeting Saxa and the rain falling down, the smell of piss and shit and pigeon feathers with the mix of antiseptic and the rumble of the trains that were near the hospital. 

She remembers closing her eyes for a second and leaning her head against the other’s strong back, all muscle and warmth

. She doesn’t remember them stopping in front of Saxa’s building, walking up the stairs to the third floor (because she couldn’t live on a even number, that’d be too mundane for Saxa’s tastes, and three was a good number), or the sound of a door unlocking.

She does remember the sound of someone singing something – something German? – quietly and the sound of a kettle screaming and the smell of paint. 

She’s groggy when she sits up – there’s a warm duvet cover that’s haphazardly draped across her, her shoes are off and her hair is escaping from the bun that she vaguely remembers stuffing it into before she had gone into the emergency room to start working on that surgery that had drained her completely. 

“About time you woke up, Mir “ Saxa chuckled, before coming out of her kitchen, carrying a tray that had two mugs, a small ceramic tea kettle and a plate of sweets on it.

“Mir? Since when did you give me a nickname?” 

“Since you decided to be a cat and latch onto me on our way here. Besides, I think it suits you.” 

“But it doesn’t even mean anything!”

“Nicknames don’t have to mean shit, Mira”

She laughs, tired and rubs her eyes before she watches the other woman move around – graceful like a cat – in her own domain, pouring them both tea that filled the room with a myriad of smells.

“Chamomile?” 

“It helps me relax, figured it would help you too”

She nods, because she feels like their meetings have a deeper connection – or maybe that’s just her sleep addled mind trying to figure out Saxa’s angle because why would she even bother giving her the time of day unless there was something that she wanted for herself – and takes a sip of the tea, hiding a smile behind the rim of her cup.

(Saxa doesn't seem to notice.)

Glancing over to the plate, she raises an eyebrow at the assortment of sweets – “Those are high in sugar, you know that right?” 

“Yeah yeah, I know that. I didn’t drag you here just so that you can rattle off the nutrition facts and spew info at me as to how I’m a walking, talking health hazard, Mir. Though if you aren’t going to shut up you can at least be useful and drink your tea and let me think.” 

“Somehow I get the feeling that once you put ‘thinking’ and ‘Saxa’ together that something terrible is going to happen.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to come over there and kiss your mouth shut for you, Mir”

That being said, Mira only glared at the woman from behind her cup before laughing to herself because this was a bit odd and weird but somehow it felt right. 

Without thinking about it, she leaned forward and took one of the gingersnaps that was on the plate and ate it, watching Saxa hum to herself and dance around her easel and canvas, dashing paint everywhere as she multitasked; as the radio on her kitchen table played a slow jazz song and the rain fell outside, pitter patter against the window pane. 

Mira could get used to it, perhaps. 

The silence had stretched on between the two women, but it wasn't awkward. It had added a sense of warmth to the room, made it almost nostalgic in a way, as if they had met each other before and they had fought and bickered and there was wine involved and the taste of blood and the word 'Roman' rose to Mira's mind but perhaps that was just her thinking about that special that she watched on the history channel a few nights ago when she had actually stumbled back home to her little flat on the other side of town for the first time in a little over two weeks. 

Eventually she had dozed off a little, because the rain and the warmth and her tired mind tended to do that to her, and she felt safe, almost as if she belonged here despite her and Saxa being only familiar with each other in passing and drunken dazes (not that she minds). 

She doesn't notice Saxa stand up from where she was painting - it's a blur of blues , greys, with yellows slapped on haphazardly on the canvas, a mix of oil and paint and a bit of water tossed in there as well, all forms that make no sense to Mira but maybe they make sense to Saxa and she's too tired to understand. 

(Or no one) 

She doesn't feel herself getting shifted and moved around so that she's lying down on the couch again and the mug of warm tea is near her on the table, and the duvet is over her form again, doesn't feel Saxa's smile on her face.

She falls asleep and vaguely hears a quiet little goodnight whispered in her ear before a kiss is graced on her forehead and maybe it's one of the gentler sides of Saxa that she has seen so far.

She falls asleep to the sound of a radio playing, the rain singing and a artist finding her muse.


	2. Bleu et Jeune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a canvas with an unfinished painting and the smell of antiseptic seeping into your bones.

I.

It’s the colors of a kite – vibrant, red and blue with gold shimmering paper strings attached to it, chasing the clouds in the blue blue sky and the sound of laughter ringing in the air – carefree and unrestrained.

i.

The hospital is a place where the white walls and antiseptic flood the nerves, invade the sinuses and send a wave of nausea through Saxa’s body. She hates them , has hated them since she was a little girl and her momma was admitted for treatment – they said it was a tumor, something that was growing and hurting momma, so she had to go and stay at the hospitals under the doctor’s supervision because they were going to make momma better. That was the logic behind Saxa’s seven year old mind as she sits outside on the plastic chairs, cheap colors that seem almost washed out as she skids her sneakers on the tile floors, anything to drown out the monotone air of the hospital that was suffocating her.

She could only clutch to her favorite toy – a stuffed lion that her momma had made for her. She didn’t care that she was seven years old and she was old enough to stop carrying around a toy but it gave her comfort. It wasn’t like she had a lot of friends – the kids at school would tease her because she liked to play and wrestle and she liked to paint and sometimes she liked to look at old history paintings of ladies in armor charging into battle against a entire army and she’d dream that maybe she can do that because they were pretty and cool and she wanted to feel the same way.

Idly, she plays with her hair – a mess of stray hair and braids, with a few silver charms in them that momma had given to her when she was five years old – a little feather, a skull (because it was cool ) and a small heart that she knew momma had made out of aluminum and brass because momma could do those things where anything – regardless of how small or simple it was – could bend to her will and be made into something beautiful.

Saxa’s mother was full of live and laughter, and she loved her little lioness fiercely.

She tried to fight against the cancer, tried to keep on breathing because her baby needed her, but in the end, she couldn’t – her garrison was worn out and tired and she needed the sleep.

It was spring when Saxa’s mother passed away, in the first few days of April.

 

ii.

The first time she gets suspended from school it’s because one of the girls wouldn’t shut up about how she hates her own mother and it wasn’t her fault, not really because they didn’t know what the words shut up meant and she was just teaching them a basic lesson in English.  

That, and the fact that she was running a fever and a headache and no thank you she does not want to fucking hear about you complaining about your mom when you at least have a mom.

It’s been eight years since her mom passed away, but every time spring comes around, Saxa is a mess.

(That’s putting it lightly, the better question should be when is she not a mess?)

She can't control it - it's as if it's an gaping hole in the center of her chest and there is nothing that she can do about it because it feels like it's gone and yet, come April she retreats into her shell, hackles raised and teeth bared to fight.

(The first time she spends those spring months with Mira - she is 24 years old a the time - it is the first time she feels at ease with herself)

iii.

Slowly, the snow starts to thaw from the winter's loosening grasp on the world, and slowly but surely the grass pokes its head through the drifts, lazy and hazy and not at all quite awake.

The world is slowly coming out of its slumber and Saxa can't seem to get enough of the fresh air. She knows that she should be sad, or brooding and yet she finds herself out and about in the early hours of the day, walking and watching and sometimes sketching if she had the urge to do so.

Sometimes she would drag Mira along with her on her walks , idly holding hands and sticking close to each other because they'd be warmer that way and not get sick.

(They both knew that it was a lie that they told themselves to scare themselves out of trying to figure out what love is or what they had between them)

Sometimes, when Mira had to go to a morning shift, Saxa would get up earlier than usual, go to the nearby deli and get two cups of coffee before racing off back home, and watching the clock tick in the early morning hours before she heard the other woman shift and get out of bed, hair deliciously desheveled and neck covered in little bite marks and kisses, and she'd beam with pride at her little handiwork and marvel at Mira's patience with her stupidity at times.

(She wonders if she can tell that she is painting her, her camvas a mix of blues, greys and yellows -sleeping on her couch as the rain pours and the music glides gently through the air and it feels like a home except it's not, it's the slow warmth that builds up when love is concerned. )


	3. Dog Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porcelain chips, chocolate lips, spin your devil to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of past abusive relationships (physical and emotional abuse)

I.

The first time they fight it's as if daggers and poison are being flung at the other, tensions gnawing and nerves snapping. They can't exactly pinpoint the problem, but the build up of long hours and sleepless nights for Mira and a artblock that has been stretching itself out for almost two weeks for Saxa might have contributed to the snaps and snarls and the vase that lies broken on the floor, water pooling on the floor and Saxa's hands shake, tremble , and she looks like a deer caught in headlights and the words die on Mira's tongue before she kneels down next to the woman who has fallen to the floor, porcelain pieces scatter and surround her like a broken mosaic.

In the few months that they have been actually dating each other, Mira has only seen the other woman lose her fierce demeanor and attitude only a few times - the first few spring months that marked the anniversary of her mother's death , the time that Agron got into another accident and had fallen into a coma for about a week (they were all nervous wrecks, with everyone from Spartacus to Nasir keeping vigil over the man until he had finally woken up and there were tears and kisses all around and a punch from Saxa who was scared shitless and Nasir looked ready to murder her for causing more harm to his boyfriend but then she had flung herself on Agron and cried and it was as if she was a little kid again, stuck in the hospital where she had seen her mother slowly wither away and Agron had laughed , skin warm and rumbling with his laughter, cutting the silence of the hospital off in her ears and she smiles, eyes watery and puffy , salty tears streaking down her face, pale outlines on her cheek and shaking arms that didn't quite know where to hold onto and when to let go).

She knows that the last few relationships that Saxa had were all crash and burn trainwrecks, with a bit of abuse tossed in because Nemetes was a fucking shady jerk who seemed kind and warm at the first glance but then there were the rape and murder charges that dogged him like never ending shadows and he turned vile and twisted and it seems a bit odd, for someone as strong and free spirited like Saxa to have been in a relationship with someone like Nemetes.

(It was dark nights filled with knives and needles and the sound of sharp raindrops hitting the window over her head. It was Spartacus who took her under his wing when she had started to hang out at his bar more and more often, spilling vile secrets of a life filled with smiles and heavily laced nightmares of a man who wore two masks and seemed to change at the flip of a coin.)

Mira's voice is quiet as they sat on the floor together and she hums a song under her breath, a lullaby that she remembers from a distant childhood that doesn't really exist anymore . Gradually Saxa calms down, hands steady and firm as she moves to crouch down in front of Mira and the dark haired woman locks eyes with her, guilty eyes and warm molten irises all in one.

"I'm sorry, Mir"

"Don't apologize, there's no need, really. It's my fault for being fucking stupid and lashing out at you when I had no right and -"

Saxa smiles, back to her old sinew - strung self, all bone and stone and warmth wrapped up in one package and she leans forward to catch Mira's lips with her own and to chase the demons away from her mind.

(It was their own silent agreement, a olive branch and a peace offering. It is 'I'm Sorry' and 'I love, you' wrapped up in one and for now, it is enough.)

ii.

Saxa remembers Agron since she was a little kid, running around in old, threadbare band shirts and leggings that her momma had gave her - all Motley Crue and AFI and the Beatles and others too - she remembers the scrawny kid who was her favorite cousin, who laughed too loudly and who loved her to the end of the world and back.

She remembers hot summer days and building kites and wrestling with him and thinks that those were the good days of her early days.

She remembers him storming into her apartment, furious like a hurricane, worried and panicking which, made him stupid and that was a given regardless - and it was oddly sweet, that he cared for his fuck up of a cousin who was drunk as all hell and doped up on some drug shit that her 'boyfriend' had slipped her and all systems shut down.

She remembers _those_ days as if someone had a remote control over her life and had pressed 'fast-forward' and everything blurred together and dragged out as if she was living through fast-forward, rewind and slow-mo and she feels sick to her stomach as she laughs and laughs and she's all alone, stuck in a room that smelled like rot and mold and someone dying.

(Perhaps it's just her own death that she smells in her drug addled mind and she wonders, what would her momma say, seeing her lion baby be such a disappointment?)

(Rhetorical questions are not supposed to be answered)

iv.

It's after she breaks free of Nemetes' chains and open wounds that she starts to slowly pick herself up from the ground and rebuild herself into someone that momma would be proud of. 

The first step, was to build herself a schedule, get rid of the addiction's presence in her life, find something else to focus on, and get there little by little.

(She makes it a promise to herself to get there the minute Agron crashes into her apartment , bloody and bruised and the name 'Nemetes' spewed like venom from his lips as she watches him collapse on her couch and stain the light fabric red before her conscious kicks in and she runs into her kitchen, taking a bottle of antiseptic and some wet paper towels before plopping down on the couch and quietly bickering with him, no anger in her words, only thinly veiled gratitude and her usual barbs and snaps that are part of her. Agron smiles and they fall asleep on the couch together, like when they were younger.)

v.

She picks up painting again shortly after, having stopped for some time because there was too much going on for her to keep on working and producing anything worthwhile.

She starts to go out more often, slowly, picking herself up from where she was dumped like a boneless heap on the side of the road. 

It's through Spartacus that she meets Crixus and his motorcycle shop, and his longtime girlfriend Naevia, a therapist whom Saxa starts to see twice a week, and the two of them form a friendship that's built on mutual respect and terrible corny jokes. 

It's Crixus and Naevia who perk her interest in engineering and how the ol' motorcycle works and soon she gets a hand me down motorcycle and it's Gannicus who teachs her, laughing and booming and she feels herself leave her shell and the past behind.

(When she sees Mira the first time, she is seething rage and Mira is calm, hands skilled and steady as she works on fixing Agron the idiot.)


	4. Glass Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's running in the rain and quiet morning commutes that happen by surprise.

They remember their first date with a smile and a secret laugh that only they know because it's _their_ laugh and no one in the world would understand and it's brilliant.  
\---

It was supposed to be a sort of relaxed thing, they'd take it slow and proper (not like the trysts that they've been having with Jack Daniels and late night shifts , tired and slow but quick and fast as well and it's all a bit mind boggling in Mira's books except she's the more levelheaded one out of the two and maybe it will work in some sort of fantasy) - but slow, with some chivalry thrown in just for some variety.

\---

ii.

They bump into each other on the bus - Saxa was grudgingly taking public transportation since her bike was at the repair shop after a little ruff and tumble with a tree while Mira was on her way for a day shift at the hospital.

(Saxa was insistant that the tree had a personal vendetta against her for no reason other than to just _have_ one and she huffs and blows a stray wisp of hair out of her face as they sit and talk small talk on the bus, in the early morning bustle filled with the quiet morning murmur of the commuters on their way to work (Saxa mutters 'Hell' and Mira has half a mind to smack her gently on the arm but she see's Saxa's wayward grin and can't keep herself from smiling like a daft fool in return)

iii.

Mira doesn't know when her eyes closed and her head rested on Saxa's shoulder but she could remember hearing the woman rant about her brother from another mother Lugo and his little obsession with talking about his cat, Milo , whom he likes to fashion little armor outfits and it was getting a little freaky but hey, at least the guy was occupied instead of wallowing in depression with a bottle of ol' whisky .

(Saxa claims that she can outdrink anyone in their little group of rag tag mechanics and therapists and medical personel - except Gannicus because he could probably drink himself to death and still be laughing in the afterlife and she's pretty sure he'd _still_ be drinking himself to oblivion with his laugh tagging along like a dog )

She doesn't notice how Saxa starts to hum quietly and she tangles their hands together and it's warm and nice.

(The sunbeams filter through the windows as they drive on by, orange and yellow and a bit of red dance with the shadows against their faces and it's warm and it feels like home, in a way)

iv.

Their first few 'real' dates are composed of dashing to the newest art exhibit and looking at the street art - it's all colors and 'vandelism' and Mira thinks that it's a little impractical but art is art and Saxa's smile is enough to make her happy so they decide to keep on walking and walking, the sun warm against their backs and they step in time with each other, idle chatter filling the quiet air.

It is dashing into the closest cafe (a little shoe-in with the brownstones in Manhattan) and laughing as the sun decided to hide behind the dark clouds and it started to rain, hard and cold and bone shivering but it doesn't matter because Mira decides to steal a kiss from Saxa and they look at each other and decide to split 50/50 on a coffee and pastry and they know it'll be fine now.


	5. Willow Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a trip down memory lane and a fire that seems to be smothered out. Saxa thinks she can paint her willow hands gold and blue and Mira would be red and silver and they can dance to the tune of the summer cicadas outside of her apartment.

I

Between the two of them it's hard to say who is the more stronger one or who has nerves of steel because sometimes (and Saxa takes note of this on their calender) around the spring time when the college kids get out of classes and go on spring break, Mora becomes a walking volcano slash alligator slash velociraptor that will eat you alive and 'probably find a way to erase all evidence that anything happened and if not, she could always pull a few strings with Barca who worked for the local police precinct and then they'd all be fucked if and when Mira finally snapped underneath the ridiculous amount of stupidity that she had to face on a day to day basis.

Needless to say, Saxa remembered to snag a few bottles of beer from Lugo when that time came around ('Scratch the cat , Lugo . You know how much Mira hates cats, with like Milo being the only exception to that rule and besides she only likes her when we come over and Milo tries to claw my face off!')

For all they knew, Mira could be the cause of World War III or the next zombie apocalypse if Saxa didn't come and steal her away on the back of her motorcycle and distract her with booze and sex.

(Not that either party was complaining if that was to be the plan.)

ii.

The first time Mira comes home utterly wasted Saxa gets a little bit worried as to whether or not the hospital workers are getting overworked because as far as she knew, Mira probably had the patience of a saint (except for maybe Oenomaus but that was Oenomaus and if you were to disappoint him he'd probably find a way to make it seem as if nothing has happened and the rats would be making little bloody organ crowns to accessorize their daily lives in most superb fashion known to rat-kind and no one would even blink or think it was weird because it was fucking _Oenomaus_ and whatever he said, went) and if she came home utterly wasted then clearly something was up.

Still, she couldn’t help but snicker a little as her girlfriend ( _girlfriend!_ ) stumbled a little and growled at the footstool that was at fault of moving and trying to trip her over because goddamnit it’s not like she hasn’t done anything _ever_ and now stools are out to get her. 

“Mira, hey, hey – easy, c’mon, you’re babbling about flying fish again, and didn’t I tell you to watch what you drink when you go drinking with Duro ? For all I know Auctus might’ve given you an extra dose of alcohol in your drink which is why you’re acting more crazy than usual” Saxa chuckled, as she wrapped her arms around Mira and led her to the couch before pressing a kiss to her forehead and dancing off to grab a blanket and a glass of water and some Advil because god knows the morning will be a bitch for Mira. 

She hums as she drapes the blanket over Mira’s shoulders and places the tablets and glass of water on the table, crawling up and stretching out like a cat before pulling Mira close to her and wrapping her arms around her.

“Sleep tight, Mira bug.”

She got a mumbling response that sounded something like “I fucking hate you” and “I love you too, Saxa “ all jumbled up in one and she could only smile as they fell asleep with the clock ticking quietly in the background.

iii. 

The days slowly melted away in a bunch of colors – first fire red and golden yellows, with the brightest of blues and the sunlight flickering on the ocean’s waves by the boardwalk, seagulls crying and winds dancing as Saxa hummed to herself, motorcycle roaring through the tranquility as she amped up the speed and shot though the street, laughing as she cut across a few cars, eliciting a few honks and middle fingers that she gladly returned with a grin. 

Merging onto the highway, she drummed her fingers against the handles, thinking as to what she’d do – Mira was finishing her shift from work, she might as well pay her a visit. 

 

(When Agron had woken up after his ‘little’ accident, he had noticed that his cousin had taken to coming to the hospital quite often. He was rather bored, there’s only so much channel surfing that a guy can do while his boyfriend was working at the local café with Melitta and Aurelia who were like two mother hens, and while they did give Nasir the time off to visit his boyfriend, he knew that he couldn’t always just skip work, after all, one of them had to keep a roof over their heads) 

Saxa remembers him saying something along the lines of her being a overexcited puppy before shutting him up and inevidently making Agron holler at the nurses to keep her away from him because she was psychotic when she punched him in the arm and _fuck, that hurt Saxa_ \- except they were both in hysterical laughter when the nurses did come in so they figured they’d just leave them be until they actually needed to be called in for help. 

(Even though Agron was pleading with them, smiles and dimples showing but they wouldn’t budge and Saxa brought them in little cupcakes the next day, crowing in laughter at Agron’s annoyed face and hissed whispers of ‘You’re all traitors!’ ) 

She laughs to herself at the memory and thinks that her cousin was right but pays no attention to it, keeps her eyes on the road and instead turns her blinker on to exit from the freeway, whistling to herself as she waited for the light to change before merging onto the right lane, heading for the hospital.

It’s at one of the bigger intersections that she doesn’t pay attention for a few seconds and pushes the gas on her bike, until she hears the screech of tires and thinks of blue and gold and red and gold and Mira Mira Mira - _I’m sorry darling_ \- before she skids onto the ground and it’s all messy and red and black.

She remembers being dragged down to the oceans waters, calming and cold and warm and she thinks she hears Mira’s laughter in the dark, and it’s not so scary now, is it?


End file.
